At 3am, Jack got crawled into our bed complaining of a nightmare. He moves constantly, limbs shooting out like little blasts, and Tom made a quick exodus to Jack’s bed. Oliver started calling for muffins and Mommy at 5:38a which woke me up and then, of course, Jack.

Fast forward 4 hours, and Tom is hiding out in the basement shredding stuff that MUST be shredded now and so forth. Really. As I attempt to type, Jack is hanging from one of my socks (I am not making this up) and Oliver is trying to climb onto my lap. Why do we need such intense proximity to each other? Last I checked, I actually did deliver you boys, like we literally cut the cord!

Household mayhem in the past 30 minutes includes:

Jack, racing around the house with a toy Ratatouille, singing “Ratatouille, ratatouille, rata, rata, ratatouille.” Oliver running after him saying, “more bread [ratatouille drives a french bread car], want it.” Tom calling from some corner of the house, “enough”, as if he’s actually the one bearing the brunt of the noise. Nope, that would be me, who also doubles as a jungle gym and general servant. “Mom, I would like 6 waffles, more syrup, one glass of orange juice, one glass of apple juice, next to each other in glass cups; I need you to wash my hands; can you find a police video for me to watch?; poopie diaper- change it; no, Mommy do it; go outside, now; mom, where’s my lego mailbox; ratatouille, rata, rata; if I eat these 6 waffles, can I have ice cream? go outside, NOW; another poopie diapy; Mom, I cannot find my taxi wheels- where are they? Oliver, I’m going knock down your tower, ok, hah-hah.”

Mamma mia! It really is enough to make me want to offer to do the taxes or clean the gutters with my teeth.

Needless to say, I did not make it to Bikram yoga this morning. Oddly enough I did dream about it though- we had to work in individual “cubicles” made out of plastic sheets hanging over our mats, but the space created by the sheets was not large enough for one to stretch out. It was totally claustrophobic. Also, to get to the studio, you had to walk through these bizarre sensors and be screened for something. What does this mean? Bikram is not for me? Weird!

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